


screenshot

by bokutoma



Category: Perfect Match (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Love at First Sight, Unrequited Love, and his equally romantic family, damien is a fucking mess, i love my romantic boy, let him get some rest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-03 06:31:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17278844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokutoma/pseuds/bokutoma
Summary: life would be a lot easier for damien nazario if mel park could just....stop being so goddamn perfect all the time[snapshots of damien's feelings over the years]





	1. meeting

The kinds of people that Damien Nazario meets through work don't vary much. There's the overweight upper middle class man with a trophy wife that he's always absolutely certain is cheating on him (Spoiler: she usually is, poor bastard.). There are possessive spouses looking to "reclaim" their beloved: he tends to turn around and offer discounted services to the runaway, help them disappear for good. Lastly, there are the college girls, drunk off their asses, who confuse strippers, old Hollywood movies, and the actual goddamn job. These were things he'd never had to put up with in the NYPD, but...well, some things are worth the irritation.

It's rare to get a real job, especially when other private investigators have things like  _actual advertisements_ and  _assistants_ on their side, so when he sees a frightened woman come through his door, shepherded by possibly the most attractive woman he had ever seen (Alana could suck his  _ass_ ), he finds himself torn between elation and grim business sense.

"What can I do for you two?" he asks, voice gruffer than usual.

To his absolute horror, the frightened woman bursts into tears.

Luckily, the other woman, after giving the sobbing one a cursory glance, sticks her hand out. "Mel Park, and this is my cousin Nadia. Sorry about the dramatic entrance, but we have a problem."

"I figured," he replies dryly, and Nadia lets out a watery laugh. "So what is it?"

Mel whispers something to her cousin that makes her blink and straighten up in her seat. Damien is almost impressed. 

"I have a stalker," Nadia announces.

"A little more context for him, Nadi?"

She nods slowly and inhales, looking like the slightly smudgy poster child for the yoga classes his mom used to try to get him to sign up for. "You probably don't know this, but I'm an up and coming artist-"

"Borderline famous in some circles-"

"I guess." Nadia sighs. "I had my first solo exhibition the other day, and I thought it went really well, you know? There were the usual snobs, the ones where you can't tell if they hate you, your art, or everyone else. Either way, though, I was getting a lot of positive feedback. I went home, everything was great, but when I woke up the next morning,  _this_ was on my doorstep."

She bursts into a fresh wave of tears as, on cue, Mel slides a piece of card-stock across the table.

It's Damien's personal opinion that a fruit bowl should  _not_ have that many breasts in it, regardless of how bloody and abused they were. 

"I assume this wasn't the only piece of...fan art she received?"

Mel nods and pulls out several more papers, each one more graphic than the last. He's seen some weird shit in his time, but it takes a fair amount of willpower to prevent himself from making a face in disgust. How  _Mel_ was doing it, he had no idea.

"Tasteful," he finally comments, mouth twisting wryly. "Any suspicions?"

"Unfortunately, no, at least none that Nadia has shared with me." Mel nudges her cousin, who's blankly staring at her lap. "Anything else, Nadi?" she asks, her voice going soft at the end.

"He...or she, or whoever, I guess, likes my still life works," she says, and somehow, discussing art makes her sound more clinical, removed. "There are more of those than there are anything else."

Apparently done, Nadia leans against Mel's shoulder and heaves an exhausted sigh, and, against his better judgement, Damien feels his heart twinge in sympathy for her.

"The best thing I can do as of now is attempt surveillance at any events you have. If you'd like, I could set up a system, either myself or a camera, at your door, but there's paperwork for that, so I can't fix that up immediately."

"Could you email it to both of us?" Mel asks, pulling a business card from her cousin's purse and scribbling something on the back. "I think we need a little time to look that over."

"Alright. I assume you saw my consultation fee on the door?" She nods. "We can discuss other payment later."

Nadia excuses herself to go to the bathroom.

Mel twists in her chair to make sure Nadia is out of earshot, then says, "Thank you, Mr. Nazario. Nadia is my best friend, and she's taking this...about as well as can be expected. When you catch this guy, you can count on a bottle of whatever you'd like, on me."

"Even if it's whiskey?"

"The best I can buy," she promises, and he's glad that there's a hint of amusement in her voice. "Though I'm not saying that's much."

"Fair enough," he laughs. "Thank you, Ms. Park."

"Just call me Mel." For a moment, all the bravado crumbles, and Damien is left with a concerned, exhausted woman. "I get the feeling we'll be seeing quite a bit of you."

"Damien, then," he replies like she hadn't just let her feelings overwhelm her, and he gets the feeling she's grateful. What escapes his mouth next is something that he likes to think he never would have said were it not for the solemn, worn beauty of her.

"And Mel? Cheer up. When you get me that bottle, I'll save a fifth for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: @chellick // @bokutoma
> 
> twitter: @deracinatin


	2. panic button

It starts like this: Damien Nazario only has a few contacts on his phone that go through Do Not Disturb. His mom, of course, and his sisters (not that he ever calls them, but just in case), as well as any current clients with a risk factor to their case. He's not a heavy sleeper, not anymore, so it doesn't take more than a couple rings before he bolts upright in bed, sees Nadia Park's name on the display, and decides that this call is more important than the questionable rest he was getting.

"What's wrong?" he rumbles into the phone when he picks up, because the Park cousins don't look like the kind of people who are out at 3 A.M., at least not the kind who would call  _him_ while doing so.

Something crashes on the other end of the line, Nadia is hiccuping with tears, and Damien can't get dressed fast enough.

"He's in," she cries, and that's all he needs to bolt out the door.

"Are you alone?" he asks, oddly calm despite being out of breath as he desperately tries to hail a taxi. They all ignore him, because  _of course_ they do.

"Mel is...she told me to run. I gotta go back  _out_ there!"

God _dammit._

A taxi lets him in, and he thinks he might have frightened the driver by screaming at him to move. Whatever. He's probably seen weirder.

"Do  _either_ of you know any self-defense?" he asks, like that will somehow clarify this cesspool of a situation.

"Mel took like...a couple months of tang soo do, I think," Nadia replies.

 _Fuck._ At least she doesn't sound quite so shaky anymore.

"Hang up on me, call the damn police!" His hands are shaking. "I'm on my way. In the meantime, see if you can get Mel to hide with you. Both of you together are better than nothing."

The silence, he thinks, is the worst part of this whole ordeal.

He will undoubtedly get there before the police arrive. Not only does he have a significant head start, but he knows for a fact that it's Jenkins and Hernandez who have Nadia's district at this time of night, and it would be a hot day in December before they got their shit together.

The driver decides that now would be a great time to start a conversation, and Damien has to forcibly restrain himself from tearing the guy a new asshole.

He gets there, throws the cash he had been nervously thumbing the entire ride at the driver, and runs like all hell has broken loose. The fire escape is his best option; he had no time to deal with doormen or being stopped, and it's not technically trespassing as long as he goes straight up to Nadia's apartment.

It takes a fair amount of parkour to get up to the ladder, and, for a brief moment, he remembers the streets of Berlin, the way she had laughed when he nearly slipped and hit his head...

Now is not the time to get distracted.

The window to Nadia Park's apartment is smashed clean through, which makes his job quite a bit easier. He pulls himself through just as he hears a pained shriek, and his head is in the game because it has to be.

He has a gun and he has his fists; he can't and won't shoot first. Damien darts through the spaciousness of the home like a shadow, and then he sees the wreckage.

Clearly, they had  _not_ found a proper hiding place.

He only has a split second to process, but this is what he sees: Nadia is not in sight but within hearing range, there is a man with a brutally sharp butterfly knife standing over a prone figure, and the prone figure is one bruised, bleeding Mel Park. The knife glints silver in the dim light of the night sky.

Oh  _fuck_ no.

* * *

The fight is over before he's in it for five minutes. When Mel sees him, she summons what seems like the remainder of her strength and kicks out the attacker's knee. He buckles, and Damien is on him, pushing him down with a knee to the small of his back. The knife comes out, questing for flesh in erratic strokes, and it slices the skin of his palm before he breaks two of the stalker's fingers and makes him drop the knife.

The police  _still_ aren't fucking here.

Mel sits up, wincing, then slams her foot into the attacker's face. "Can we Scooby Doo this guy now?" she asks over his howl of pain. "Or let Nadia get in a few hits?"

Of course, that's when Jenkins and Hernandez show up, and they're so fucking incompetent that they nearly shoot  _him._ Statements are taken, the villain is unmasked, and then they're left with the wreckage.

"What happens next?" Nadia asks as she carefully scoops the glass pieces of a lamp into the trash. She looks at Mel worriedly; her cousin had decided against going to the hospital, probably for her sake, and refused to be looked at until the apartment was clean.

Damien understands a thing or two about irrational guilt, so he lets her cope with it how she wants. Besides, it's not like he knows her well enough to insist. 

"Well," he says, suddenly exhausted. "Pretty damn clear what just happened here, and with that in mind, I can petition for a warrant on this guy's house. The data I had compiled matched his general age range and appearance anyway, so we won't have too much trouble unless, for some reason, he's  _not_ our stalker."

Mel's eyes pierce him through the darkness. "We?"

He's uncommonly flustered. "It's not over until we know for certain, and I'm not leaving until the job is done."

She shifts, hisses through her teeth when she brushes something wrong, and the heaviness of her gaze suddenly makes perfect sense. Guilt pools in his stomach; he failed them.

"Thank you, Damien!" Nadia cries, launching herself at him in a tight hug. "You're the best!"

He's not sure what to do until Mel cracks a small smile. "Yeah," she says. "He's a real sweetheart."

* * *

Mel sends him a mockingly flirtatious glance as she strips off her shirt. "If you wanted me naked, Nazario, there are easier ways to achieve it than this."

Normally, he would say something about propriety, but the Parks feel...like friends now, and instead, he fights red from blooming on his cheeks. He decides not to examine his reaction too closely, and instead focuses on the bruises that bloom ugly and harsh against the tan of her skin. Glass is half-lodged into her side and forearms in some places, but she doesn't seem to notice. It's kind of badass, kind of hot.

The first piece of glass is easy to remove, as are the next several, but then he gets to her side.

"Do you mind?" he asks, waving his hand to indicate touching her for balance.

"Not at all," she says, and it's a struggle not to flush.

Even with his hand against the softness of her skin, though, he manages to be businesslike. "Why didn't you want to go to the hospital? No offense, but you're pretty banged up."

She shrugs, then winces when it pulls a cut open, blood oozing out from a sticky laceration. "I know Nadia. She seems like she's okay, doing well considering the situation, but all she wants is to be home, even if home looks a little fucked right now. I'm not gonna leave her here alone."

"You're brave, you know," he says like it's not the most obvious thing ever.

She smiles softly, staring at nothing. "Nadia's family." She twists suddenly, looks him in the eye, and he can't quite catch his breath. "Considering the night I've had, can we make my share of the celebratory bottle two fifths?"

 _"Two fifths,"_ he agrees, gesturing with his fingers. "Not two-fifths of the whole thing."

Mel sighs dramatically, and he finds himself relieved to hear the hint of a laugh in her voice. "It's better than nothing, I suppose."

And maybe the guilt still sits low and heavy in his stomach, but, for the moment, Damien is actually content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: @chellick // @bokutoma
> 
> twitter: @deracinatin


	3. post-credits, scene one

Nadia Park's case is over. 

Damien should be happy, celebrating even; the money he made is enough to keep the lights on both here and at home for a month. Once the stalker had been arrested the night of the attack, it had been a fairly easy time gathering evidence of the stalking itself, and the scum himself had readily agreed to a plea deal, one that Damien felt comfortable with as well. Still, he finds himself missing Mel's wry comments and Nadia's exuberance. It's only been a few days since their final meeting, but he feels their loss keenly. He isn't sure when, exactly, they had become friends rather than clients, or even if they felt the same, but he's tired of being aloe.

His phone vibrates with a text.

_friday night and ur still alone in ur office? embarrassing lol_

A slow smile spreads across his face, and when he opens the door, he's rewarded with the sight of Mel Park, possibly literal angel, holding a bottle of cheap whiskey.

"Surprise!" she says, and he is.

"Just for your text, I'm going to make you give me the whiskey and leave."

"Try it." Her voice is laced with saccharine poison, but there's a smile somewhere in there as well. "We'll see who else buys you drinks when I'm gone."

"I'll have you know that people buy me drinks."

"When you go out once a year? Hell yeah they do, it's like spotting a rare animal."

"Besides,"  he says, a laugh threatening to escape the confines of his mouth as she breezes past him. "How do you know I was alone all night?"

"Other than the fact that you answered?" She gives him a dry look. "Listen, you're sexy, Nazario-"

 _"Pretty_ sure that breaks about ten different rules of etiquette and professionalism."

"I'm not your client any more, I'm your  _friend."_ She tilts her head, though, and she suddenly looks unsure. "Aren't I?"

When he nods, Mel looks far too pleased, and maybe that stokes a little warmth in his heart too.

"Anyway, as I was saying, you're bangin' even on a bad day," she states, and he tries very hard not to blush even though she said  _bangin',_ of all things. "But good  _lord,_ you need some game. The stoic badass thing only pulls a girl so far before she's disenchanted by the fact that you're not magically softening for her. Besides, look at this desk. You'd have an aneurysm if anyone even  _suggested_ having sex here."

"Save that conversation for later in our friendship, okay?" He snorts and pops off the top of the bottle, easing into his rolling desk chair ($12.99 at Uskea, which was an absolute steal, thank you for asking.)

"Ooh, so I'm allowed to ask about your sexcapades later? Fun!"

As she settles onto the table, he groans and leans back, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I think I'm regretting this decision already."

"Aw, come on! It comes with free booze and move nights. How can you say no to that?"

A tiny smile spreads across his face, traitor that his body is. "I guess you've got me there, Park."

"Good." She steals the bottle from him and takes a quick swig. "Now that we have that out of the way, let's play Truth or Dare."

He must have a truly horrified expression on his face, because she doubles over with the sort of laughter that's replete with strange gasps and noises, and he takes the opportunity to swipe the whiskey back.

"I promise I won't ask anything  _too_ rough," she says when she quits her hysterics. "I'll let Nadia be the one to put the fear of ever drinking again into you."

"You're  _so_ generous," he says, voice thick with sarcasm, and she smiles.

By the time they finish, childhood stories uprooted and social media filled with questionable content, though, Damien thinks he might actually like this idea of friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: @chellick // @bokutoma
> 
> twitter: @deracinatin


End file.
